Last Words
by hpaddictedg
Summary: [Draco x Ginny, Harry x Ginny] Sometimes, there are more important things than love. Though, of course, she'd never admit that.


**Last Words**

_Summary: [Draco x Ginny, some Harry x Ginny] She's there for his last words.  Somehow, she wishes that she hadn't been. _

**_Disclaimer: It would appear that I don't own Harry Potter.  Oh, well._**

_A/N: This's the last story in the **P.M./B.W./L.W. **series.  Draco's in prison for being a Death Eater; Ginny's going to visit him one last time.  The last paragraph is supposed to be like that of **Phantom Murmurings**; I think it ends the series well._

_Draco's more in-character in this than usual, I think.  The dialogue is strange, though; it's a little too poetic, but I like it._

**Last Words**

"So," she said, staring into the dingy cell, "what they've been saying is true, eh?"  Draco nodded, gingerly extending his arm where the Mark was tattooed.

            "How could you have expected anything else of me?" he asked softly, teasing her.  "We've all known since…well, _forever_, really."

            "You never _told_ me," she pointed out, matching his quiet tone.  "You said you would tell me everything, but you never told me _this_."

            "I couldn't very well do that, could I?" he asked sarcastically.  "Your family fights for the Light side, darling.  It wouldn't have been very smart on my part to tell _you_ anything, would it?"

            "I wouldn't have told," she whispered.  "I wouldn't have _ever_ told."

            "Sure," Draco sneered.  "I bet you like to think that, don't you?  That love could conquer everything and you'd always keep my secret; _I'd_ be your secret, _wouldn't_ I?  But I know you too well, Ginny.  When it got to be too much and the guilt was tearing you up inside, you would have told.  You're not as noble as you like to think."

            "I _wouldn't _have told!" Ginny snapped.  "You wouldn't have told about me, would you?  If I was in your place and you were in mine, and it 'got to be too much', would you have told about me?"

            "I'd like to say 'no'," Draco replied, "but that would be lying.  Us Slytherins like to save our skin, dear; we would do _anything_ to save ourselves.  If they were threatening me, I would tell in a second."

            "I _hate _you!" Ginny spat, adverting her eyes.  "I can't _believe _you!  You'd put your own life over _mine_?"

            "Yes, I would," Draco replied, "and I know _you_ would do the same.  That's one of the reasons why we get along so well, you see.  We know, deep down, that there are some things more important than love."

            "I-I don't know how I'll live without you," Ginny whispered after a moment's pause.

            "You'll live without me like you have been for the past four years," Draco stated.  "You'll live with Potter and visit with your parents and your brothers and have just _scads_ of fun; you probably won't even think about me."

            "_You're wrong_," Ginny snapped.  "I'll live with Harry, but it'll always feel wrong because he isn't _you_.  I'll visit with my family, who will talk about your death like it's a good thing, and each day I'll die a little bit more, until I'll be a shell.  _That's _how I'll live without you, Draco.  _I'll die._"

            "You're too melodramatic," Draco sneered.  "You'll forget about me within a few years; everything'll be just _lovely _for you, Gin."

            "Would _you_ forget about _me_?" Ginny questioned.  "Would I fade from your memory that easily and painlessly?  Do you forget people you love that quickly?"

            "No, I don't suppose I _would_ forget," Draco mused, "but that's because I don't have anyone else.  Slytherins don't exactly keep in touch, you know; Parkinson died in the war, anyway.  I have no one else, so I would sit and reminisce all day.  _You_, though, have a huge family and people to talk to, so you would forget."

            "_No, I wouldn't_," Ginny insisted, and Draco wanted so much to believe her, but, somehow, he couldn't.

            That night, Ginny dreamt of blood and death and oppression and the lingering sound of a twenty-one year-old blonde boy's last words.  _She had never felt so worthless._

_{_End_}_


End file.
